


Swan Song

by gemjam



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Consent Issues, Drug Abuse, M/M, Prostitution, Violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Studying abroad proves more expensive than he was anticipating and while staying in a seedy apartment block, Sebastian finds his life tangled up with some of his fellow tenants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Song

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to zeraparker for looking this over and offering reassurance :)

Sebastian's never been very good at admitting defeat. He could go home, switch his course to the local college, pay lower tuition fees and not have to worry about rent and food. Or he could just call, tell his parents he's struggling, ask for some money. They'd help, he knows they would, but he'd feel like a failure and he wouldn't be able to face his own reflection in the mirror. Not that he's been doing a very good job of that lately anyway.

And so he stays in London, so far from everything he knows, and he rents a shitty room in a shitty apartment block by the week. The place is full of vagrants and lowlifes and from the moment he steps into the lobby he feels instantly unsafe. But there's a big lock on his door and it's not like he can afford anything better. There's a single bed in the corner, a sofa, a small kitchen area that he spends his entire first day cleaning but it doesn't seem to do any good. The shower leaks and he often lies awake listening to it drip all night.

He works two jobs, delivering pizza from the place just off campus and picking up shifts at a bar in between whenever he can. It gives him just about enough money to make ends meet but eats up so much of his time that he barely gets chance to study anymore. If he fails his course this is probably going to be his life forever. It's that thought that has him downing cans of Red Bull and staying up all night with his textbooks. He can't admit defeat. He's going to make something of himself if it kills him.

He leaves his rent, an envelope stuffed with cash, in his mailbox every Sunday for the landlord to pick up. This is where he meets Jenson at the end of his first week. He places his own envelope into his mailbox and then smiles at Sebastian, locking it back up.

"You're new," he comments.

"Yeah," Sebastian says awkwardly, shoving his envelope through the slot before he can get mugged. If he loses this then he doesn't have enough cash to pay.

"I'm Jenson, 29," he tells Sebastian, gesturing towards the number on his mailbox.

"Sebastian, 34," he responds, shifting on his feet. He feels exposed giving away his apartment number like that.

"You should come around for dinner sometime, me and Nico love guests," Jenson tells him. "And you look like you could do with feeding up."

"Oh, uh." Sebastian looks down at himself. He usually just grabs spare pizza slices from work. "I work a lot and the rest of the time I'm studying. But thank you for the offer. Maybe if I get time." He takes a step away, hoping the conversation is over.

"What are you studying?" Jenson asks.

"Molecular physics."

"I have no idea what that is but I guess that means you're smart," Jenson says. Sebastian just shrugs. "I'm going to Google it," Jenson tells him. "Then we can discuss it over dinner."

Sebastian gives an awkward little laugh. "Okay," he says, not meaning it for a second.

Jenson turns out to be a good guy from what he can tell, he's always friendly when Sebastian crosses paths with him in the building. A couple of times he's seen his boyfriend too, Nico, the two of them holding hands in the elevator, and Sebastian feels like his loneliness is going to swallow him whole.

It's coming up to his third rent payment when he heads out for a late shift at the bar, pressing the button for the ground floor and absentmindedly staring at the little lit up 'G'.

"Hold the door," a voice calls.

Sebastian startles, taking a moment to find the right button, making the doors slide back open just in time. A gangly, out of breath man jumps inside, grinning lopsidedly at him.

"Thanks, mate."

"Ground floor?" Sebastian guesses.

"2," the man responds, leaning over Sebastian and getting in his personal space so he can press the button himself. Sebastian leans back, finding himself pushed up against the cold elevator wall. The man shifts back, appraising Sebastian. "Fresh meat," he comments. Sebastian feels himself blush. "We share a wall," the man adds. "Did you know that?"

"Uh, no," Sebastian replies. "Sorry, I'm not here much, I haven't noticed many people."

"Well, you've been noticed," the man tells him, stepping out as the doors slide open. He turns back to face Sebastian. "I'm Mark."

"Sebastian," he responds automatically.

"Maybe you'll notice me now, _Sebastian_ ," Mark says, spinning around, and just before the elevator doors close, Sebastian sees him knocking on door number 29.

He does notice Mark after that, notices that he seems to go out at strange times of night when Sebastian is usually coming home, notices the dark circles under his eyes, notices the way his clothes hang off him, notices the vague sadness and desperation that hangs around his presence.

One night they meet in the elevator, both arriving home at the same time for once, Sebastian having done a closing shift at the bar. Mark slumps against the wall, staring at Sebastian, and he absolutely reeks of sex. Sebastian tries not to crinkle his nose up but he's sure the distaste must show on his face.

"You should let Jenson make you dinner," Mark says.

Sebastian looks up at him. "What?"

"He's worried about you," Mark tells him. "He doesn't want anything in return. He's one of the good guys."

"What's he doing here then?" Sebastian asks before he can stop himself.

Mark's lips pull into a humourless smile. "Sometimes you can be the nicest person in the world, doesn't mean you can get a break. Trust me, Jenson's solid and whatever you have going on, he doesn't judge."

"I don't have anything going on," Sebastian says, straightening himself up.

"Right, of course, me neither," Mark responds sarcastically.

The doors slide open on their floor. Sebastian can't step out quickly enough. Mark follows somewhat clumsily after him.

"Let him look after you, I'm sick of hearing him bitch," Mark says. "Okay?"

Sebastian stops at his door, frowning slightly. "I can take care of myself."

Mark sighs, a heavy sound that seems to drag him down. "Yeah. But sometimes it's nice to not have to."

Sebastian does end up going around to Jenson and Nico's for dinner one night. It's a surprisingly pleasant experience. Their studio apartment isn't any bigger than Sebastian's and with a double bed it should feel smaller, but it's nicely decorated and it has rugs to define the different areas, and it's a squash to get around the dining table, but it feels homely rather than the crushed little cell Sebastian's own apartment often feels like. It's warm and welcoming and Jenson and Nico's company makes him feel more at ease than he has in a long time.

It becomes a semi-regular arrangement, Sebastian going down to their apartment once or twice a week for a decent meal. At first he can't help but look for ulterior motives and he hates himself for it because Jenson and Nico seem like genuinely nice people. Sebastian still can't work out what they're doing in a shitty place like this though. Jenson mentions that they're saving up for something but Sebastian doesn't think that can possibly justify slumming it like this.

Sometimes Mark is there for dinner too and Sebastian finds himself more and more intrigued by him. Most nights he's quiet, playing with his cutlery or Nico's collection of Russian dolls that sit on the side table, but sometimes he won't shut up, talking and talking but not saying anything meaningful, not really saying anything at all. Sebastian suspects he's on drugs but he knows his life has been sheltered enough that he doesn't really know anything about it.

There's a vulnerability to Mark that he hides behind his indifference and sometimes he looks really young, like a kid who's totally out of his depth, and Sebastian wants to protect him, even though Mark is about ten years older than him and Sebastian can barely even look after himself.

"Have you been to the clinic yet this month?" Jenson asks one night.

Mark sends a brief glare his way from where he's slumped on the floor against the arm of the sofa, slotting the Russian dolls inside one another. "Not yet."

"You need to go," Jenson insists.

"Yeah, okay, mum," Mark mutters.

"Mark, this is your health," Jenson says sternly. "This is your _life_."

"I use condoms, the ones they give out at the clinic, I know what I'm doing," Mark tells him.

"We had a deal," Jenson says. "I won't interfere so long as you get tested every month."

"I'll go tomorrow," Mark says, his cheeks slightly flushed and his shoulders hunched up as he starts to unstack the dolls again, placing them in a row.

"Good," Jenson says. "I worry about you."

Mark looks up at him, defiance on his face. "There's worse things in this job than STDs," he says, a clear challenge in his voice.

"Yeah, I know," Jenson agrees, not flinching away from his gaze. "Who's the one who always takes you to the hospital?" He gets to his feet, crossing the room, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of Mark's head. "You're worth more than the fucking streets," he mumbles into Mark's hair before heading over to do the washing up.

Sebastian feels awkward when they ride the elevator up together at the end of the night. He stands by the buttons, trying to disappear into the corner. Mark stands in the middle of the elevator, staring at him.

"Are you disgusted with me now then?" Mark asks.

"What?" Sebastian says, looking up at him. "No. I just... I didn't realise. It's none of my business."

"No, it's not," Mark agrees gruffly.

The doors slide open and Mark steps out but Sebastian doesn't move. He follows Mark with his eyes and he feels so helpless. He hadn't realised just how fond he'd become of Mark in the last few weeks.

"Don't you hate it?" he asks, unable to hide the pity in his voice, and he knows it will put Mark's defences up.

Mark spins around to face him. "It's just a job. Don't you hate your job? It pays the bills."

The doors begin to close and Sebastian snaps himself out of it, putting out a hand to catch them. He steps into the corridor. "You're going to the clinic tomorrow, right? You weren't lying."

Mark pauses in unlocking his door. "If there's one thing I could never do it's break a promise to Jenson. I owe him too much."

Sebastian nods. Mark pushes his door open.

"Good night," Sebastian says.

Mark offers him a tired little smile that looks more genuine than anything on his face has for a long time. "Night, mate."

The next day at work an order gets messed up and there's an extra pizza left over. Sebastian grabs it for himself, knowing that his shift finishes early enough that Mark will probably still be at home when he gets back. He knocks on Mark's door, Mark looking sleepy when he answers it.

"You like Hawaiian?" Sebastian asks, holding up the pizza.

"Who the fuck would put pineapple on a pizza?" Mark responds.

Sebastian laughs. "I don't know but it was free. Maybe we can just pick it off."

Mark opens the door wider, nodding for Sebastian to come inside. His apartment is even more sparse and unwelcoming than Sebastian's, not even a bed, just a mattress on the floor covered in a mess of sheets. The sink is full of unwashed dishes and there's a stale smell that makes Sebastian want to open the window. He stands in the middle of the room holding the pizza, not quite sure what to do with himself.

"Yeah, not quite as nice as Jenson and Nico's place," Mark comments. "That's why I don't throw so many dinner parties."

"Mine's shit too," Sebastian assures him.

"Let's eat," Mark says. "I'm starving. You have excellent timing."

They sit on the tiny threadbare sofa, building a soggy pile of pineapple on the lid of the pizza box as they eat. Mark seems relaxed, chatting about pizza toppings, his favourite meals, proper barbecue etiquette. It's all kind of nothing though and Sebastian finds himself wondering again who the real Mark is.

"Do you ever miss home?" Sebastian asks.

"Nah," Mark dismisses. "This is home." He shoves the pineapple chunks around with his finger. "You know, eating pineapple's supposed to make your come taste good."

"I've heard that," Sebastian agrees, though he's disappointed that Mark is trying to change the subject, hide behind his crudeness.

"Want to try?" Mark asks, picking up a slimy piece and offering it up to Sebastian.

Sebastian pushes his hand away, giving him a look, but there's a warmth in Mark's eyes, something Sebastian hasn't seen there before, and it makes him pause. He licks his lips, melting into the sofa slightly, and Mark takes it as an invitation, flicking the pineapple from his fingers before pulling Sebastian into a kiss.

It's suffocating at first, all pressure and need, and Sebastian finds it a little overwhelming. He makes a noise in his throat, trying to move back, but Mark's hand is in his hair, fingers softly curling into the strands. He seems to take the hint though, easing off slightly, his tongue tracing Sebastian's lower lip over and over until Sebastian moans, opening up to him.

A shudder goes through him and he's embarrassed by his own reaction; this is probably nothing to Mark. He pushes the thoughts from his brain, tries desperately not to think of him on street corners, down alleyways, in seedy hotel rooms. They couldn't be any seedier than where they are now. When the images refuse to leave him alone Sebastian grabs hold of Mark, dragging him closer, using the immediacy to keep them at bay. Mark groans appreciatively, pushing him back onto the sofa and sliding on top of him.

They move together, neither breaking the kiss as their hands wander and their hips push together. Sebastian's hard, achingly so, and he can smell Mark, sweat and arousal, the intimacy of sleep still clinging to him beneath it all. Sebastian moans, thrusts upwards, his hands going to Mark's waistband. Mark catches his wrists, pushing them away, using his own hips to press Sebastian more firmly into the sofa. Sebastian tries again, getting his fingers on the button of Mark's jeans before they're once again pulled away.

"Don't," Mark tells him, shaking his head, eyes still closed, moving in for another kiss.

"What's wrong?" Sebastian asks, shifting back. He studies Mark's face, wonders if he doesn't do this for free.

Mark sighs, opening his eyes. "I went to the clinic but I have to wait for the results," he says, looking chastised. "I'm sure it's fine, it's always fine, I'm careful, but I'm not going to take that risk with you."

"Okay," Sebastian agrees, shifting beneath him, not sure what to suggest.

"We can still take care of you," Mark says, reaching for Sebastian's jeans.

"No," Sebastian tells him, taking hold of his hands. "We can do it together. Like this."

He opens his legs wider, grabbing Mark's shoulders to pull him back down into the kiss. As they settle back into a rhythm he slides his hands down Mark's back and grabs his arse, forcing their hips together, cocks rubbing against one another. Mark makes a feral noise in his throat, thrusting forcefully down, clinging hold of Sebastian as they start to move together.

Sebastian is too hot, sweating in all the layers of clothing, and yet he doesn't feel any distance between himself and Mark. Even though it's rough and instinctive, rutting against each other, Sebastian can feel a connection, something that draws him closer, deeper, like a fly caught in a web. He closes his eyes, grips hold of Mark tightly, let's the harshness of him wash everything away until there's nothing to do but feel.

The noise he makes when he comes is something between a whimper and a plea but he doesn't have enough brainpower to feel embarrassed about it. His hips stutter up against Mark as his underwear is soaked with hot stickiness, arching his back and surrendering to the thundering of his heart, the heat that thrums through his veins. Mark growls, pushing down against him so harshly Sebastian feels like he's being crushed. He opens his eyes to watch Mark's face contort above him, tightening into something almost painful looking. As his orgasm hits him he makes a broken noise that speaks to some deep down part of Sebastian, makes tears well up in his eyes. It's so raw and honest and animalistic and Sebastian wants to make it better but he wouldn't know where to start.

The room is silent except for their harsh breaths. Sebastian's not sure how long they stay like that, no movement but for the sucking of their lungs. Eventually Mark shifts and then he climbs off Sebastian entirely, contemplating the state of himself.

"Haven't done that since I was a teenager," he says. "Can't say I missed it."

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, shifting on the sofa, the come already cooled and making his stomach turn.

"I need a shower," Mark says. "Got to go to work." He looks down at Sebastian. "Thanks for dinner."

Sebastian smiles. "It's not Jenson's home cooking but it's something."

Mark nods. "It's something," he agrees, the words loaded between them. He gives a curt nod and then heads for the bathroom, swinging the door closed behind himself.

He doesn't see Mark again for the rest of the week and he can't work out if it's because Mark is avoiding him or if their unusual schedules just don't cross. He has dinner at Jenson and Nico's on Thursday and Nico says that Mark seemed fine when he saw him a couple of days before so Sebastian decides not to worry. Their lives are complicated enough without trying to fit each other into them. He can't quite get that moment out of his head though, that broken sound that Mark made. He feels like it's the most honest he's ever seen him.

He finishes an early evening shift at the pizza place the next day, standing in the lobby while he waits for the elevator, when Mark enters the building, holding himself around his middle and moving carefully. It's early for him to be returning from the street and so Sebastian instantly feels like something must be wrong.

"Hey," he greets, trying to make his smile look genuine, but he's sure the worry most show.

"Hi," Mark returns, looking at the numbers above the doors count down. His voice is gruff and he clears his throat.

The doors open and they step inside. Sebastian tries to convince himself that he's getting the cold shoulder, that an orgasm is just an orgasm and Mark doesn't want to encourage some annoying college kid to follow him around with puppydog eyes, but he doesn't think that's it. Whatever Mark is hiding from, their little tryst doesn't seem to be the concern.

Mark leans against the elevator wall, still clutching his stomach, staring at Sebastian across the small space.

"Are you okay?" Sebastian asks.

"You look like a boy scout," Mark says. "I was just wondering if you ever got your first aid badge."

Sebastian frowns. "What?"

Mark straightens himself up a bit, moving his hand, and Sebastian feels sick when he sees the blood soaking into his T-shirt, smeared across his palm.

"Could do with a little help," Mark says with a shrug that instantly makes him wince.

"What happened?" Sebastian asks, moving towards him. The doors open but they both ignore them.

"Just got a little stabbed," Mark responds nonchalantly. "It happens."

Sebastian looks up at him. "We should go to the hospital."

"No hospital," Mark insists. "They asks questions."

"Mark," Sebastian appeals.

"It's not deep," Mark tells him. "All I need is someone to clean it up a little and put a dressing on while I down some vodka from the bottle. Think you can handle that?"

Sebastian stares at him. He doesn't feel like he could handle anything right now. "Yeah," he says, swallowing thickly. "Do you have a first aid kit or anything?"

Mark moves away from the wall, pressing the button to open the doors again. "Jenson bought me a nicely stocked one," he says. "This kind of shit happens more than he'd like. But we don't have to worry him about this one, okay? We'll just keep it between us."

Sebastian neither agrees nor disagrees with Mark's request, just takes his keys off him as he tries to open the door and lets them both inside. Mark shrugs off his jacket with a hiss and then drops himself down onto the mattress, sprawling on his back.

"Kit's in the cupboard under the sink, mate."

Sebastian heads over, his palms already sweating nervously. He has no idea how to do this, can barely stand the sight of blood, especially when it's someone he cares about. As he crouches by the sink he pulls out his phone and considers calling Jenson. A glance over his shoulder changes his mind though as Mark pushes his T-shirt out of the way. Mark asked for him and Sebastian doesn't admit defeat. That's how he ended up here in the first place.

He puts his phone away and grabs the first aid kit, hurrying back to Mark's side.

"Vodka's in the fridge," Mark tells him.

Sebastian feels judgemental for disapproving, but the thought crosses his mind anyway. He retrieves the bottle and hands it over to Mark as he opens up the kit. It's impressive, standing out against the rest of the crap in Mark's apartment. It's clean and well stocked and Sebastian wonders just how often Mark gets hurt that Jenson decided he needed this.

"Wear the gloves," Mark tells him before taking a swig of the vodka.

Sebastian puts them on without complaint. "Did you get your test results?"

"All clean," Mark replies. "But I always say better safe than sorry."

"That's a good rule of thumb," Sebastian agrees, though looking down at Mark's abdomen he can't see any evidence that Mark lives by it. He's tempted to count the scars, some little pricks that could almost be imagined, some red lines a couple of inches long, but he starts to feel a little lightheaded.

"Told you it's not the first time," Mark says, watching his face. He takes another swig of vodka.

Sebastian grabs some gauze and presses it tentatively against the wound, scared of pressing too hard and hurting him, doing more damage.

"Blood's practically stopped, just clean it," Mark says. "It's only a flesh wound. Use the wipes, they sting like a fucker but they work."

"Uh." Sebastian pulls the gauze away, looking at the blood that's soaked into it. He's not sure what to do and he thinks again of calling Jenson. He's so completely over his head here.

"Fucking clean it or fuck off," Mark says, exasperated. "Don't get carried away with your Florence Nightingale impression, it's fine."

"I don't know if this needs stitches," Sebastian tells him. "I don't know."

"I have prior experience," Mark says, gesturing to his stomach. "This is nothing."

Sebastian nods, busying himself with the first aid kit, taking longer than necessary to collect what he needs. He opens up the antiseptic wipe and unfolds it, brushing it gently over the wound. Mark grunts, the muscles in his stomach tightening up as his whole body stiffens. He takes a couple of long swallows of vodka and then gasps. Sebastian hesitates, his stomach turning over. Mark glares at him, a clear message to just get on with it. Sebastian takes a deep breath and tries to shut it all out, wiping swiftly over the wound until the blood is washed away, but it doesn't really look much less sickening. He reaches for the dressing, a clean rectangle of white that could hide a multitude of sins. He opens it up and presses it carefully against Mark's skin, securing it in place.

"Thanks," Mark says, his voice gravelly.

"Do you need some painkillers?" Sebastian asks.

"There's some vicodin, in the drawer," Mark says weakly, gesturing towards the head of the bed. "Grab it for me."

Sebastian moves, opening it up and quickly realising it's Mark's underwear drawer. He feels weird picking through it. He pulls out the bottle and can't help but check the name on the label; it's not Mark's. He returns to Mark's side, handing over the bottle and watching as Mark shakes out two pills, washing them down with vodka. Sebastian tries not to let his disapproval show.

"Do you need anything else?"

Mark shakes his head, closing his eyes. "Think I'm gonna sleep it off for a bit. You can go, I'm fine."

"Okay," Sebastian agrees.

He waits for a few moments until Mark's body starts to sink into the mattress, his breathing becoming rhythmic, and then he gently takes the vodka bottle out of his hand, setting it aside. He lays the blanket over him and then fetches a glass of water to leave beside the bed. He stands above Mark, watching his chest rise and fall, and he wants to lie down beside him, wants to hold him, wants to keep him safe. It's a pipedream though and he forces himself to turn away, closing the door gently behind himself.

He grabs a Red Bull from the fridge and gets his textbooks out but he can't concentrate. He spends more time staring at their shared wall than he does the books, reading the same handful of sentences over and over again. Eventually he gives up and decides to go to bed, but the Red Bull is still pumping through his veins along with the adrenaline that comes from worrying about Mark, and he lies awake for most of the night, listening to the shower drip drip drip.

The next day, when he finishes his shift at the pizza place, exhausted and drained, he buys Mark's favourite, a meat feast with extra steak; he's a carnivore after all, that's what he'd told Sebastian. He bounces on his feet as he rides up in the elevator, hoping that Mark hasn't gone out yet, hoping that he won't go out tonight. He knocks on the door, chewing on his lip when there's no response. He tries again, hearing some shuffling before it finally opens.

Mark looks like he's just been woken up, wearing nothing but a pair of low slung pyjama pants, the dressing standing out starkly against his flesh. Sebastian tries his best not to look at it. He swallows, Mark rubbing sleepily over his eyes. He stretches which turns into a stagger and Sebastian realises he's not tired, he's completely out of it.

"I scored another free pizza," he says. "Thought you might want to share."

"Free pizza?" Mark asks, looking at the box like it's a gift from heaven.

He wanders back into the apartment, leaving Sebastian to follow after him and close the door. They sit on the sofa and Mark grabs a slice, chewing slowly. Sebastian stares at him.

"How much vicodin have you taken today?"

"A couple," Mark responds with a shrug, taking another bite.

"Then what else have you taken?" Sebastian asks.

"Nothing," Mark dismisses.

Sebastian watches him for a moment. "Did you tell Jenson?"

"Tell Jenson what?" Mark asks.

"About last night," Sebastian says. "That you're... not well."

"Jenson doesn't need to know," Mark dismisses. "I don't need a babysitter, I'm fine. Doesn't even hurt."

"That's because you're high as a kite," Sebastian says.

"I just woke up," Mark says. "You woke me up, you need to give me a minute."

Sebastian looks at his watch but decides not to comment on how early it is. They eat in silence and Mark does seem to come around a bit once he has some food in him. Sebastian starts to talk about university, a subject that feels safe, and it puts Mark at ease, leaning back on the sofa and watching Sebastian with a subtle smile playing over his lips.

"I could grab my books, study here," Sebastian offers. "If you want to hang out."

"Might head back to bed," Mark dismisses with a wave of his hand.

"I could still stay," Sebastian offers. "I like it here."

"Nobody likes it here," Mark responds. "I don't even like it here."

Sebastian purses his lips together. It's not really a lie, he does like it in Mark's apartment, but mostly that's just because it's where Mark is.

"Do you want me to check the cut for you?" he offers.

"It's fine," Mark dismisses. "I've done this a million times. I can take care of it."

"Okay," Sebastian agrees.

He gets to his feet, throwing the pizza box into the bin before turning around to contemplate Mark. He's slumped down on the sofa and Sebastian doesn't want to leave him like this. He can see that arguing isn't going to get him anywhere and so he waits until Mark falls back asleep and then he sneaks out, leaving Mark's door ajar, and fetches his textbooks, sitting down on the floor and working on his research. If he spends more time staring at Mark than the books that's only because he needs to keep an eye on him.

He sees Jenson the next morning at the mailboxes, rent money in hand. He wants to tell him about Mark, maybe ask if Jenson can check up on him because Sebastian has to go to the library this morning and work this afternoon, but he doesn't think Mark would forgive him for that. Jenson is such a mother hen and Mark wouldn't be able to handle his fussing, it might just send him over the edge.

So they chat about nothing and Sebastian promises to come for dinner one evening next week once he has his shifts worked out. He keeps his head down, keeps an eye on Mark when he can, but by midweek Mark doesn't open the door to him anymore. Sebastian presses his ear against the wood, listening for any noises, but there's no evidence of anyone inside. Sebastian hopes that means he's feeling better and hasn't just collapsed.

He has exams coming up though and, much as he hates himself for it, it's easy to get distracted by schoolwork. When he takes up Jenson's offer of dinner he finds out that Mark was there the night before, that he had a good appetite and seemed happy enough, so he doesn't feel too guilty about abandoning him. After dinner he looks at the little Russian dolls while they chat and he imagines Mark sitting on the floor, taking them apart and putting them back together again, a child's game that he doesn't really understand.

That Friday night, while most people his age are out partying and having a life, Sebastian is buried in his textbooks, can of Red Bull in one hand and a highlighter pen in the other. There's a knock at the door and he squints up at it, suspicious. It's two in the morning and no one ever knocks on his door. He gets to his feet, wishing there was a peephole so he could see who it was before he let them in. He really hates this building sometimes.

He opens the door slowly, peering around, a smile coming over his face when he sees that it's Mark. "Hi," he says, throwing it open. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," Mark responds. "Fit as a racehorse."

"Good," Sebastian says. "I haven't seen you all week."

"Yeah, sorry, I know it's late, I could hear you turning pages so I figured you were up."

Sebastian frowns, picturing Mark stood out in the corridor, listening intently, a copy of what Sebastian was doing at Mark's door earlier in the week.

"So, anyway, yeah, I have a favour to ask," Mark continues. "I mean, I know I owe you about a million favours, and possibly my life, but..."

"It's okay," Sebastian assures him, perking up at the thought of Mark letting him help. "What can I do?"

"I have this client," Mark begins, leaning against the doorframe. "He made a booking for tomorrow but he won't see me unless I bring a friend."

Sebastian feels his face heat, bile rising up in his stomach. "Uh..."

"You don't have to do anything," Mark says quickly. "Just watch, that's all. You just have to come to his hotel room with me and you just sit in a chair and watch. I do all the sex stuff, he just gets off on an audience. You don't even have to look like you're into it, he pretty much wants to humiliate me, so..."

Sebastian stares at him. "I... I don't think I can do that."

"It's easy," Mark insists. "And he's a high payer, I'll share fifty-fifty with you. I know you could use the money."

"Mark..."

"Please," Mark implores, something so genuine in his eyes, just like the night that they kissed. "I need this money and I used to have someone else who'd come do this kind of stuff with me but he disappeared, he fucked off like everyone fucks off, and I can't afford to turn this down, I haven't been able to work all week."

"Are you sure you should do this?" Sebastian asks, trying to shift the focus, because he's not sure he can be the one to take this away from Mark.

"It's fine now," Mark dismisses. "I just need a payday. All you have to do is sit there, it probably won't even take that long."

"I'm really not comfortable with this, Mark," Sebastian says, hating how much he sounds like he's grovelling because he shouldn't feel bad about turning something as fucked up as this down but Mark is looking at him like Sebastian is about to break his heart and Sebastian doesn't want to be that guy, not after the week Mark's had; the life he's had.

"I don't have anyone else to ask," Mark tells him. "I'm not exactly flush with friends and Jenson's going to try and put me back in that rehab bullshit if he gets wind of this. I trust you. I can trust you, right?"

Sebastian gives him a look, imploring Mark not to put him in this position. He should tell Jenson, should say whatever it takes to get Mark to leave and then go downstairs to Jenson's apartment, even if it's the middle of the fucking night and Jenson and Nico are probably all snuggled up peacefully together in their perfect little lives that for some reason they've chosen to live out in this hellhole. He should tell Jenson everything, the stabbing and the drugs and the job, let him take care of it, because Sebastian is so very in over his head. He knows he's not going to do that though. He's not going to betray Mark's trust, not when he's just earned it.

"I..." he begins haltingly, looking down at the carpet. "I don't know if I can."

"You can," Mark insists in the same tone of voice a normal person might encourage Sebastian before his exams. "Please."

Sebastian looks up, meeting his eyes, and it's a big mistake. "Okay," he agrees. "But if I do it wrong and I mess up your job..."

"You can't do it wrong," Mark dismisses, straightening up, grinning at Sebastian. "So long as you're in the room he'll be one happy client, I promise you."

"Okay," Sebastian says again. He feels numb and he wants to shake himself, wants to run down the corridor and jump out the window.

"I'll come see you tomorrow, we'll talk details before we go over there," Mark says, suddenly animated. "You're a great friend, you're the best."

Sebastian shakes his head but Mark doesn't seem to notice. He's the worst kind of friend there is, one who feeds someone else's demons.

The next night he dresses in a pair of grey jeans and a blue button-down shirt. He doesn't own any smart shoes and he's considering whether his navy running shoes will be a better option than his turquoise trainers when there's a knock at the door. He opens it to find Mark standing in front of him in his usual ill-fitting clothes. He looks Sebastian up and down.

"You look like you're going on a first date," he says, his lips pulling upwards into a smile Sebastian doesn't think he's seen for a long time. "That's adorable."

Sebastian feels his cheeks flush. "Should I change?"

"No, it's fine, he'll like it," Mark dismisses, stepping past Sebastian to let himself into the apartment. Sebastian closes the door behind them, reaching for his trainers. "So, this guy, his name's Dr. Marko," Mark says, flopping down on Sebastian's sofa. "But you don't need to know that, you don't have to speak to him. There'll be a chair by the bed, just sit in it, that's all you have to do."

"Okay," Sebastian agrees, balancing awkwardly on one foot to pull his shoe on.

"He's a nasty piece of work but I'm used to it, okay?" Mark insists. "It doesn't bother me. You don't need to worry."

Sebastian puts his foot back down on the floor, looking up at Mark. "What's he going to do?" he asks uneasily.

"Nothing," Mark dismisses. "He just gets off on power. Thought I better brief you now rather than having him upset your innocent disposition when we get there."

Sebastian sighs, going to sit by Mark's side on the sofa. "Mark, I really don't know if I can do this."

"Of course you can," Mark says breezily.

"I don't want to," Sebastian says, giving him a pleading look.

"It's good money," Mark tells him. "Really good. Easiest cash you'll ever make."

Sebastian doubts that. He also doesn't need the money badly enough that he'd be willing to go through this for it. But Mark needs him and Sebastian just doesn't know how to turn Mark down.

"Okay," he says. "Let's just get it over with."

They take the tube to the other side of the city, the side where people probably don't choke to death on their own vomit in alleyways and not get discovered for a week. They don't talk, Sebastian constantly wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, trying to deny to himself that he's nervous. All he has to do is get through this. All he has to do is survive it.

The hotel is nice, all marble floors and chandeliers, and Sebastian feels hideously out of place. Mark doesn't pause, striding straight across the lobby with a confidence no one would dare question, pressing the button to call the elevator. It arrives with a friendly little ding and they step inside, Mark sending them up to the top floor. He navigates the corridor without hesitation and Sebastian follows meekly after him, wiping his palms down again on his jeans as Mark knocks on one of the doors.

An old man answers, older than Sebastian was expecting. He has grey hair and a slightly lopsided face that makes him look sinister. He glances at Mark and then takes in Sebastian, eyes appraising him in a such a way that Sebastian feels like he's being undressed. He shifts on his feet and clasps his hands together, trying not to flinch away. He wants to make a good impression, for Mark's sake.

"Come inside," Dr. Marko invites to both of them, though the words are more directed in Sebastian's direction.

Sebastian remembers Mark's instructions and ignores everything in the large suite except for the chair by the bed, telling himself that if he can just sit down everything will be alright. The cushions are plump, the arms padded, and Sebastian grips hold of them, his gaze falling onto the bed. He doesn't think the chair would normally be sat here, it seems unnatural, and the fact that Dr. Marko has so carefully set this up for him makes his skin crawl.

"Strip," Dr. Marko directs and Sebastian blinks before realising the words are for Mark. "Then you can get on all fours."

Dr. Marko doesn't watch Mark take his clothes off but Sebastian somehow can't quite help it. He hates himself for it, tells himself to look away, but as Mark peels his T-shirt upwards, revealing his skinny frame, Sebastian finds his eyes fixed in place. He searches out the mark from the knife, the wound mostly healed now, but it's still red and tender looking. It makes Sebastian's mouth turn downwards. Mark shouldn't be putting himself in this position, not right now, not ever.

Mark toes his shoes off next, unfastening the button on his jeans, and then he's shoving them down without preamble, stripping himself naked like it's the most natural thing in the world. There's nothing sexy about it, not really, it's so businesslike that it's almost a turn off. Before he discards his jeans Mark reaches into the pocket, pulling out some condoms and little coloured packets, tossing them onto the bed. He climbs on beside them, positioning himself on all fours like Dr. Marko requested.

As Dr. Marko sits down on the edge of the bed, looking over the items Mark placed there, Mark looks over at Sebastian, giving him a reassuring little nod. Sebastian takes a shaky breath, knowing he must look terrified. He grips the arms of the chair even harder. Mark's lips flicker up into the tiniest hint of a smile and then Dr. Marko tears one of the packets open and Mark bows his head down. Sebastian can practically see him going into self-preservation mode and it makes him feel sick.

Dr. Marko squeezes the lubricant from the small packet directly between Mark's arse cheeks, letting it drip over him. It looks cold and unpleasant, making Sebastian grimace slightly. Dr. Marko reaches forward, smearing the lube, his eyes shining with amusement as he makes a mess of Mark. Eventually he presses a finger harshly inside Mark's body, then another, making jabbing movements that have Mark squeezing his eyes shut.

"Beg for it," Dr. Marko prompts.

Mark drops himself down onto his elbows, pushing his arse upwards in offering, making a needy sound, and Sebastian could almost believe it.

"Fuck me," Mark says, his voice rough. "Please, fuck me, I need it."

"Dirty little slut," Dr. Marko mutters, almost to himself. "Desperate little whore."

"Please," Mark says again, a little more broken.

Dr. Marko pulls his fingers out and reaches for a condom, unzipping his trousers. He slaps the insides of Mark's thighs. "Come on then, spread your legs if you want it."

Mark does as he's told, positioning himself even more vulnerably on the bed. Dr. Marko moves in close behind him, gripping Mark's hips, and Sebastian's eyes stay focussed on fingers digging into flesh as Dr. Marko starts to fuck him.

It's the noises that get to Sebastian first, that slick slide, the slapping of skin, the way Mark grunts when Dr. Marko forces his hips forward particularly brutally. He feels too hot, feels coated in shame and disgust, but he can't quite manage to look away. He hates himself for it, for witnessing this, for not being able to stop himself. He feels like he's letting Mark down but this is what Mark asked him to do. Sebastian shouldn't be enabling Mark to do things like this though, shouldn't be helping him slip further down this self-destructive path.

"Yeah, take it," Dr. Marko grits out. "That's right, fucking take it."

He speeds up his hips, fucking Mark with abandon, and Sebastian has to lift a hand to wipe the tears from the corner of his eye. He wants to protect Mark, wants to go over there and throw Dr. Marko off, wants to punch him in the face until he's bloody and raw. He knows he can't though, he's just a scrawny little kid, and even if the adrenaline would help him overpower Dr. Marko that's not what Mark wants, and that's what hurts more than anything. Mark accepts this life, invites it. The only one who wants to put a stop to this is Sebastian.

"You love that, don't you," Dr. Marko says harshly. "Can't fucking get enough." His hips snap forward erratically as he reaches down, grabbing a handful of Mark's hair and tugging his head back painfully. Mark cries out, grimacing. "I'll keep you in your place."

He comes, back arching, but he doesn't revel in it, the harshness never leaving his face. He pushes at Mark, flips him over onto his back, kneeling down between his spread thighs. Mark is panting, staring up at him, his expression a mixture of hatred and self-loathing.

"Get yourself off then," Dr. Marko says. "Animal."

A shudder goes through Mark but he reaches for his cock, wrapping his hand around it. He stares at Dr. Marko defiantly but after a few strokes there's a surrender in him and he tips his head back, focussing on his own touch. Dr. Marko smirks and Sebastian digs his fingernails into the arms of the chair, wanting to wipe the smugness off his face.

He can't focus on that for long though, not when Mark's hips ride up into his own hand, and Sebastian is absolutely devastated to find that this turns him on. He tries to look away, tries to respect Mark, but he can't help the way his body responds to the needy little noise Mark makes. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and the movement catches Dr. Marko's attention, his eyes appraising, making Sebastian feel coated in filth and wants to take a shower just to get rid of the feel of his gaze.

Dr. Marko turns back to watch Mark finish himself off, coming over his hand and stomach, and Sebastian thinks of the fresh wound as Mark's body flexes, thinks that this can't be good for it. He has images of Mark cracking open, everything draining out of him, and Sebastian wonders if he could possibly help Mark get rid of the bad stuff without the good.

As Mark lies there, hand still around his sticky, softening cock, chest rising and falling with the effort to just breathe, Dr. Marko leans over him, getting right in his face. "You'll never be any better than this," he says evenly. "This is all you'll ever deserve."

He climbs from the bed, heading for the bathroom without a word, and Mark scrabbles for his clothes. He's shaking as he pulls them on, not even bothering to clean himself up first. Sebastian wipes at his damp eyes, knowing he has no right to be the one upset here. Mark looks absolutely wrecked, physically and emotionally drained, and Sebastian wants nothing more than to wrap him up under the duvet of that kingsize bed and hold him, make it all better. They don't belong here though. Their lives are lived out in shitty single rooms that have never seen anything other than tragedy.

Mark is still fumbling with the button of his jeans when Dr. Marko returns, unable to get his fingers to cooperate, and Sebastian wants to help him but he's certain it wouldn't be appreciated. Dr. Marko crosses the room, stopping in front of Sebastian, blocking his view of Mark. Sebastian looks up at him, meeting Dr. Marko's curious gaze.

"You're a sweet little thing, aren't you?" he comments, genuine fondness in his voice, and somehow it's worse than the hatred. "You could be something really special."

He lifts up a hand and Sebastian shrinks back. Mark steps up, slapping Dr. Marko's hand forcefully away.

"You didn't pay enough to touch him."

Dr. Marko raises his eyebrows. "And how much would he cost me?"

Mark shakes his head. "You couldn't afford him." He reaches down, taking hold of Sebastian's hand and pulling him to his feet. "Come on."

Mark pockets the envelope of cash left at the foot of the bed, not letting go of Sebastian's hand as he pulls him from the room, not looking back. Sebastian can feel the tension in him as they wait for the elevator, squeezing his hand in an attempt at reassurance. Mark looks down at their joined hands, frowning like he doesn't understand them. The elevator doors open and they step inside, Mark pulling his hand away as he reaches for the button for the ground floor. He huddles at the back of the small space then, arms wrapped around himself, and Sebastian can see that he's still shaking. He steps over to him but Mark flinches away. The elevator doors open and Mark practically knocks Sebastian out of the way in his rush to get out.

"Let's get a taxi," Sebastian says.

"Tube's cheaper," Mark dismisses, still hugging his arms around himself as they step outside.

"But..." Sebastian tries.

"I'm not wasting my fucking money," Mark snaps.

Sebastian frowns at him. "Wait here," he says. "Don't move, okay?"

Mark's shoulders sag slightly and Sebastian takes that as an agreement, heading back inside the hotel. He smiles sweetly at the woman on reception, hoping he doesn't look quite as frayed around the edges as he feels. She smiles back at him and agrees to his request, wishing him a good evening. When he gets back outside Sebastian's stomach drops when he can't see Mark straight away, but then he spots him leaning against the building, playing with his hands.

"Hey," Sebastian greets.

"I need a cigarette," Mark says.

"You smoke?" Sebastian asks.

"No," Mark says, looking slightly confused. "Sometimes."

Sebastian nods. "I got them to call us a taxi. I'll pay. It won't be long."

Mark doesn't acknowledge him, lifting a hand up to his mouth and chewing on the cuticle. He's still shaking and Sebastian wishes he'd brought a jacket.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

"I'm fine," Mark responds.

He doesn't say anything else, just stands there shivering slightly, chewing on his fingers, until the taxi pulls up in front of them. He hesitates then, looking at Sebastian sideways, and he looks so stripped away that Sebastian knows he can't possibly be looking back with anything other than pity.

"I'm sorry," Mark whispers, the words so heartfelt, and then he climbs into the back of the taxi, Sebastian following after him and giving the address to the driver.

Mark slumps against the door, pressing his head against the cool window and looking upwards, staring at the streetlights as they pass by, making his face flicker. He looks almost childlike. Sebastian reaches out, taking hold of Mark's hand, but Mark pulls it instantly away, turning from the window to frown at him.

"What are you doing?"

"I just..." Sebastian begins, but he doesn't really know. He just wants to offer some comfort. He just wants to make it better.

"You think we're going to be all cutesy like Jenson and Nico and hold hands?" Mark asks. "You think that's us?"

"What?" Sebastian asks, completely confused, because he doesn't understand what Jenson and Nico have to do with anything, he just wanted Mark to know he was there.

"They're not so fucking perfect," Mark insists bitterly. "They don't have sex. Did you know that? Nico has all these issues, creepy uncle or something, he doesn't let Jenson touch him. Once in a blue moon he'll let Jenson suck him off, _let him_ , that's how he sees it, like Jenson's the one getting something out of it. He never returns the favour."

Sebastian feels his face heat, glancing at the taxi driver.

"Sometimes Jenson can't take it, he goes out and gets drunk, fucks people in club bathrooms," Mark goes on. "And then he comes and cries to me about it. Trust me, the last person you ever want crying on your shoulder is Jenson. Total fucking heartbreak. Kills me every time."

"They seem happy," Sebastian says in a small voice, feeling pathetically naive.

"Maybe they are," Mark shrugs. "Who am I to judge? But they're fucked up, just like everyone else. You can't ever really know what someone else is going through. We all wade through our own personal hells."

Sebastian stares at him and he wonders what Mark is trying to tell him. Maybe he's not trying to say anything, maybe it's just the broken ramblings of someone who's sick of being on the receiving end of losing. But Sebastian feels like there must be some truth in all of this that he's missing, something he can use to find a way in to Mark, but in reality he knows he's being pushed further away than ever.

The smell of Mark in the enclosed space of the taxi is overpowering, the come and sweat and acrid adrenaline. Sebastian cracks the window open, leans towards it to try and get some fresh air, and Mark returns to his own window, counting streetlights, his lips moving occasionally with silent words that Sebastian will never get to hear.

In the corridor outside their apartments Mark removes half the money from the envelope and hands it to Sebastian. It makes him feel dirty just to be holding it. He takes his key from his pocket, turning to say goodnight, but Mark has already closed the door on him.

Sebastian buries himself in university work over the next week, knowing that he needs to ace these next exams or he's in danger of getting kicked off his course. University is the only reason he's here, he reminds himself; his education is the only thing that matters. He sees Mark in the lobby one evening, Mark heading out as Sebastian returns from the pizza place, and they exchange a nod but no words. Sebastian wonders if Mark is grateful for the space or if Sebastian has just turned into one more person who's let him down.

The sound of rain used to soothe Sebastian, when he was little and he laid in bed at his parents' house, all tucked up and warm as he listened to the raindrops pattering against the window, lulling him off to sleep. There's nothing restful about the storm going on outside though, hammering against the flimsy glass pane like it's trying to break in. Sebastian lies on his stomach on the floor, books spread out around him, trying to ignore it.

A scratching sound at the door has him instantly on high alert. He jumps to his knees, bracing himself as he listens, soon realising it's someone tampering with his lock. He swallows heavily, looking around for something to protect himself with. His mind goes to the cash he has hidden at the back of his cupboard behind the cereal he never eats because he never has any milk, the cash he got from watching Dr. Marko fuck Mark. He's instantly drowning in guilt. Maybe he deserves to get mugged.

A muttered 'fuck' gets Sebastian's attention. He knows that voice. He gets to his feet and opens the door to see Mark poised with his key, gasping as the door flies away from him. He looks at Sebastian like he's seeing things and then his eyes go to the number on the door. He gives a heavy sigh, sagging as he realises his mistake.

"Sorry."

Sebastian takes in the sight of him. He absolutely drenched to the skin, hair flattened to his head, dripping down his face, his T-shirt clinging obscenely to his body. He takes a step away, towards his own door.

"Wait," Sebastian says. He reaches out, takes hold of Mark's wrist, and then instantly drops it, remembering his reaction in the taxi. He shifts on his feet. "You're soaking."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "Got kind of rained off."

"Come in," Sebastian insists.

Mark glances at his own door but then steps inside Sebastian's apartment, every movement looking worn and tired.

"I'll get you a towel," Sebastian tells him, ducking into the bathroom.

He returns with a couple of large bath towels that are anything but fluffy and he feels inadequate. Mark sits down on the sofa, apparently unconcerned that he's going to leave a wet patch, but Sebastian really doesn't care, he just wants to make sure he doesn't get pneumonia. He sits by his side, handing Mark one of the towels, but he just dries his face with it and then drops it down to his lap. Sebastian uses the other towel to run over his hair, scrubbing away the water as gently as he can. When he pulls it away Mark's hair is sticking up in all directions and Sebastian can't help but smile. He reaches out, his hand wrapped in the towel, and tidies up the edges to try and catch the rest of the water droplets.

He can feel Mark watching him intently, can feel his own breath getting shallower at the intimacy. He licks his lips, trying to blink away his thoughts, but when he meets Mark's gaze he feels instinctively pulled to him. He straddles Mark's lap, the wetness of his clothes instantly starting to soak into Sebastian's as he presses their bodies together, tilting his head as he looks at Mark, still touching his hair. Mark's hands go to rest just above his hips, thumbs rubbing little circles, and Sebastian lets himself fall, pressing their lips together.

It's gentler than before, deeper, and Sebastian moans, melting against Mark. Their tongues slide together, everything feeling so sensuous, so heightened, and Sebastian knows this isn't romance, but he can't help the way his heart swells when Mark squeezes his waist, pulling back to press their foreheads together. He looks at him, open mouthed and breathless, a softness about him that Sebastian barely recognises.

"I..." he says, trailing off, looking down at himself. Sebastian takes in his soaked T-shirt.

"You should take them off," he says. "You'll get sick."

Mark shrugs but he lets Sebastian peel the layer off him. The skin is damp and cool beneath and Sebastian runs his hands over it, trying to warm it up. Mark watches, quivering slightly, and Sebastian can't help leaning in, sucking on his bottom lip. Mark sits limply beneath him and then he gives Sebastian's shoulders a reluctant shove.

"Don't."

Sebastian opens his eyes, pulling back from Mark to see the hurt in his eyes.

"Please don't."

Sebastian nods, moving back, feeling absolutely mortified. "I'm sorry," he says, shame creeping over him at taking advantage. He still has the towel in his hand and he passes it over to Mark without quite looking at him, adjusting himself awkwardly on the seat so he can face away, offering Mark a semblance of privacy.

"It's..." Mark says haltingly, his voice fading away. "You're better than that."

Sebastian turns back to face him, the words making his heart physically hurt. "I'm not," he insists. "I'm really not."

Mark looks down at Sebastian's textbooks spread out across the carpet. "You are."

Sebastian shrugs. "Maybe I was."

Mark turns to look at him, an intensity in his eyes that Sebastian doesn't understand. He can't work out if it's anger or passion or some other emotion that Sebastian's too immature to recognise. Sebastian can't bear looking at it for long, has to turn away. His eyes scan his tiny kitchen area, landing on the kettle. He turns back to Mark.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" he offers. "To warm you up?"

Mark reaches for his wet T-shirt. "I should put some dry clothes on."

Sebastian nods. "I'll have it ready for when you get back."

Mark smiles, small and tentative but real. "Okay."

Sebastian smiles to himself as he makes up two mugs of chocolate. He waits on Mark but he doesn't return right away so Sebastian leans against the counter with his own drink cradled in his hands, feeling the heat of it seep into his palms. He takes a sip, sighing happily, inhaling the delicious aroma. He takes another sip and tells himself he's going to wait for Mark but ten minutes later it's starting to cool and he suspects Mark's not coming back. After fifteen minutes, his own mug nearly drained, Sebastian is almost certain.

With a sigh he picks up Mark's mug and heads out to the corridor, knocking on Mark's door. No response. He tries a couple more times. "Mark?" Nothing. Sebastian shifts on his feet, hating how let down he feels. "I'm just going to leave your hot chocolate here then," he says, a certain note of surrender in his voice. He bends down, placing it in front of Mark's door. He stands back up and waits for a moment as though Mark will change his mind. He doesn't. "Good night," he says through the door, heading back to his textbooks.

The next morning, on his way to university, he notices that the mug is gone from outside Mark's door and it makes him smile that Mark came to retrieve it. He doesn't see Mark over the next few days but it's no surprise. One night when he comes back late from a shift at the bar he listens at Mark's door to see if he's back yet, considering knocking, but he doesn't want to crowd Mark. He'll turn up again when he's ready.

When another week passes by with no sign of him he starts to worry though. His exams come and go and Sebastian is running out of distractions, his thoughts seeming to stray to Mark more often than not. Sebastian remembers the way his warm hands slid over Mark's cold skin, fingers catching slightly on the dampness. He remembers how young Mark had looked with his hair sticking up in all directions. He remembers how the kiss had made him feel more deeply alive and connected than anything had in a long time.

That evening he gets off the elevator on floor two and knocks on Jenson and Nico's door.

"Hey," Jenson greets with a smile. "We've just eaten, but do you want leftovers? I made casserole."

"Have you seen Mark?" Sebastian asks, unable to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice. "I just, I haven't seen him for ages, I'm starting to worry about him. I know it's stupid..."

He trails off as Jenson looks over his shoulder, exchanging a look with Nico who's doing the washing up. "Come in."

Sebastian instantly feels his heart drop, knowing this is going to be bad news. He walks inside on autopilot, sitting down in the chair.

"I saw him earlier this week," Jenson says, the regret clear in his voice. "He was putting his keys in the mailbox."

Sebastian stares at the floor. People never stick around here very long, that's why the rent is by the week, and when you don't want to stay any longer, you just put your keys in the mailbox instead of your rent and the landlord will move someone new in. Sebastian feels numb, his chest tight, unable to process the enormity of it.

"Sorry, I know you guys were... whatever," Jenson says awkwardly.

"He's gone?" Sebastian asks, looking up, as though there's a chance he's just misunderstanding. Jenson doesn't say anything. "Did you try and stop him?"

"He's a grown up," Jenson shrugs helplessly. "What can I do?"

"But I thought he was your friend," Sebastian accuses. "I thought you cared."

Jenson sits down on the sofa with a sigh. "I do. Mark's complicated. He doesn't really let people in."

Sebastian slumps back in the chair, hugging himself. Nico wipes his hands off on a dishtowel and then goes to join Jenson on the sofa, sitting close by his side. He reaches out, taking hold of Jenson's hand and squeezing it. Jenson smiles at him as Nico rests his head down on Jenson's shoulder and Sebastian remembers what Mark told him about them. Who is Jenson going to cry to now Mark's gone? How could he leave them all like this?

Sebastian sniffs before he realises that he's crying, embarrassed when Jenson and Nico look up at him. "Sorry," he chokes out, taking a breath to try and get himself under control, but his face crumples when he pictures Mark walking out that door. "I didn't get to say bye."

Jenson considers him for a few moments and then he pats Nico's knee, prompting him to move back so that Jenson can stand. He goes over to the kitchen, opening one of the drawers. "I had a key made for his apartment once," he says, digging through the drawer. "For emergencies. I was always worried he was going to..." He holds up the key, shaking his head. "He could be a real fucking idiot. I just wanted to make sure he'd never be stuck alone."

Sebastian gets to his feet, eyes fixed on the key. "Can I use it?"

"I've been meaning to go up there all week," Jenson says, not looking at him. "Clean it up a bit before the landlord collects the keys on Sunday. Guess that only leaves me with tonight."

"I'll help," Sebastian says eagerly.

Jenson finally meets his eyes. "Come on then."

The blinds are down and the air is musty. Everything is just like it always is, the dishes in the sink unwashed, the mattress on the floor unmade. It looks like Mark will be back at any moment and Sebastian tries to push the thought away but it's all so untouched, all so Mark. He wanders around, scared to touch anything, scared to disturb it. By the sink he sees a mug that belongs to him, the remnants of hot chocolate dried into the bottom. He picks it up, cradles the cold porcelain in his hands, breathes in the sweet smell. He closes his eyes against the tears that sting there.

He can hear Jenson moving around, the rustle of binliners, but he stays rooted to the spot, stuck in a fantasy where Mark came back, where they shared hot chocolate, where they curled up together in Sebastian's single bed and kept each other warm. But then what? Mark wasn't going to just walk away from his life, leave the streets and get a real job and be Sebastian's boyfriend. Sebastian couldn't save him, he wouldn't know where to start. All he could do was care about him, treat him right, but Jenson had been doing that for years and it hadn't changed a thing. Mark was too far gone on his path to self-destruction, his idea of worthlessness ingrained in him by clients like Dr. Marko, and Sebastian was just some kid who had book smarts rather than street smarts, a useless ally in the battles Mark faced every day.

Sebastian opens his eyes with a sigh, staring down at the mug. He catches Jenson giving him a questioning look. "It's mine," Sebastian explains. "I leant it to him."

Jenson nods. He looks around. "I don't think there's anything worth salvaging. We should just go."

Sebastian grips the mug tighter. "I can't."

Jenson steps up to him, putting an arm around him. "You want to come crash on our sofa tonight?"

Sebastian shakes his head.

"Look, worrying about people like Mark, it's basically pissing in the wind," Jenson says. "And I know that sounds harsh and trust me I love Mark but you just can't get that emotionally attached to someone who's so determined to shut you out. You have to learn when to let go. And I'd do anything to help him but he never wanted me to. God, just getting him to go to the clinic was like pulling teeth."

"But he went," Sebastian points out. "For you."

"Yeah," Jenson agrees. "I just hope he doesn't forget good habits wherever he is." He pulls his arm away, taking a step back. "Come on, let's go."

"I'm going to stay for a bit," Sebastian says, not meeting Jenson's eyes.

Jenson gives him a disapproving look before offering a helpless shrug, putting the key down on the counter. "Lock up when you're done. I guess I don't need that back, this place won't be Mark's after tomorrow." Sebastian stares down into his mug, not responding. Jenson sighs. "Come by for dinner tomorrow. Please."

"I'm working," Sebastian says.

"Then come by after," Jenson tells him. "I don't care what time it is, just come see us. I want to know you're alright."

Sebastian looks up at him, feeling touched. "Okay. Thank you."

Jenson gives him a little smile, glancing around the apartment. "Don't stay here too long. Don't hurt yourself more than he's already hurting you."

He closes the door softly behind himself and Sebastian finally moves, placing the cup down on the counter. He walks over to the mattress on the floor, climbing under the covers without even taking his shoes off, pulling them up over his head until he's drowning in Mark. He closes his eyes tightly, tries to imagine the two of them here, naked and sweaty and satisfied. He hates himself for making it so crude. Even that's a lie though, sex could never be uncomplicated between them.

Some part of him knows that Mark left to spare him, scared of dragging Sebastian down with him, but if Sebastian could tell him one thing it's that the damage is already done and he's not afraid of the darkness. He doesn't want the storybook romance that Jenson and Nico present to the world, he wants the raw reality that lies beneath it. He wants something _real_ , even if it hurts. Hurting alone is just too painful and he can't stand it anymore.

A thought strikes him and he sits up, reaching for the drawer by the bed. He digs around through all the things that Mark didn't take with him and he finds them, his fingers closing around the cool plastic of the pill bottle. He takes two of the little white ovals and swallows them dry, burying himself back beneath the blankets. Curling himself up into a ball he starts to cry, the sobs wracking his body until they make him wretch and he feels like he's going to die, but then the pills start to take effect, lifting him off the bed and making him float, making him light as air.


End file.
